Conversion
by Duppy Conqueror
Summary: It's been over a year since Jane shot Red John. The ladies on the team are trying to put it all behind them. Grace's methods are vexing Jane, while Lisbon's are just plain intriguing him. R/R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Mentalist. A/N: Still working on El Scorcho and World Your Rock, but this popped up. Before anyone loses their mind and flames me before or after reading, I'll point them in the direction of the pilot episode in which Jane less eloquently than Stuart Mill, through the use of a straw and nautical kitsch, made his belief that there is nothing to believe in quite clear. Rant at Bruno Heller if you have a problem with that particular part of Jane's character. I can't do anything about it.

Conversion

"_I am thus one of the very few examples, in this country, of one who has, not thrown off religious belief, but never had it…"_ _-John Stuart Mill, Autobiography_

"_It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie,  
>Yellow, polka dot bikini,<br>That she wore for the first time today."_

_-__Lee Pockriss & Paul Vance, "Itsy, Bitsy, Teenie, Weenie, Yellow Polka Dot Bikni"_

* * *

><p>August 2012 CBI Headquarters<p>

It was a hot and muggy summer day in Sacramento and the occupants of the CBI building were feeling the heat. The state of California had the distinct misfortune of once being led by an adulterous, movie star with an environmental slant, and he'd left behind a little known-but largely loathed-annual practice. State employees were encouraged to go without their air conditioning for a twenty-four period if possible in order to help save energy, the environment and, though the Governator would never admit it, money.

There was no law forcing bureaucrats and civil servants to turn off their AC, it was just a patriotic and green thing to do, provided it caused just a little sacrifice, and no physical harm. Hospitals certainly weren't obligated to jump on board.

Of course, people can disagree on what constitutes a sacrifice, and how big or small it might be. At least three members of the California Bureau of Investigation were of the opinion that forgoing central air was a pretty tall order to get filled. The fourth was bothered by the heat, but was the kind of person who thought making sacrifices for the greater good was just how life was supposed to pan out.

The fourth person was not Patrick Jane, part-time consultant to the CBI, full-time skeptic and occasional jail bird.

"Can I just say," Jane muttered from where he was sprawled across his tattered couch in the bull pen. "That I hate Tracey Wilcox so bad right now, so bad."

Kimball Cho, the senior agent currently in charge of their team didn't even look up from the novel he was reading at his desk before uttering, "Ditto."

"Don't say hate Jane, hate is a very strong word."

Grace Van Pelt was a junior agent and never afraid, unlike most people, to scold Jane.

"Come on Grace, Jane is just joking," said Wayne Rigsby, who if their little team could be considered a family, was most likely to be the middle child. He didn't have Cho's seniority, but he was no rookie like Van Pelt.

"No I wasn't," Jane stated.

"See?" Van Pelt asked raising her eyebrows at Rigsby.

"Well, whatever," Rigsby replied and pulled off his tie while loosening his collar. "He's not wrong. We wouldn't be forced to work in a sauna if Tracey wasn't such a joiner."

"I hate joiners too," Jane offered weakly from the couch. He was too hot to exert the effort necessary to sound truly damning.

Tracey Wilcox was the head of Human Resources at the CBI, and she was probably also at one time Valedictorian of her high school, Prom Coordinator, head of her university debate team, not to mention the current chair of the PTA at all three of her children's schools and the first one to volunteer to bake a cake for a fellow employee's birthday. It was Tracey who had read about Governor Schwarzenegger's list of suggestions for a sustainable work place in a trade publication, and had decided to table a motion to adopt some of his ideas at the CBI during a quarterly HR committee meeting.

Thus, Jane, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt would have had ample opportunity to veto Tracey's initiative to go green for a day if they'd only bothered to sign up for, and attend meetings of, their HR committee. That's the thing about joiners, you can hate them all you want, but you can't accuse them of apathy. There was only one person amongst them who was a member of both our aforementioned gang of four's team, and the HR Committee, Teresa Lisbon, their regularly scheduled team lead.

It was impossible to know just where Senior Agent Lisbon came down on the air conditioning versus no air conditioning for a day debate because for the first time in more than five years, she was vacation. Cho was in charge for the next two weeks, and it was just his luck that Boil Your Employees to Death Day occurred on his watch.

"That's it!" Cho cried and threw his book down on his desk. "I never thought I'd say this, but I really hope someone gets murdered today."

The look of shock on his teammates' faces caused him to rephrase his desires. "Okay," Cho conceded, "maybe not murdered, but attempted murder, or a felony at least! Whatever gets us out of this building."

"Might as well forget about that buddy," Rigsby said and leaned towards the fan on his desk. "This town is dead today. Even the criminals are too hot to bother with working."

Jane watched lazily as Rigsby turned his fan up. The younger agent stuck his face extremely close to the appliance and began making moaning sounds into the blades.

"Cho check this out, remember this?" Rigsby asked and settled back against the fan. "Luuuuuuke I aaaam youuuur Faaaaaather."

"Yeah, Tommy Boy, funny," Cho replied mirthlessly.

_Mindless entertainment for the mindless_, thought Jane, but Rigsby's little show did peak his interest for another reason. A quick scan of the office told him nearly everyone was employing some form of personal fan, in various sizes, to cool themselves while they worked. He didn't begrudge them this luxury, but one had to wonder if they didn't sort of defeat the point.

"What's the deal with all the fans?" Jane finally asked. "I mean whatever energy we're saving by turning off the AC we're burning up again with the fans. Probably more energy. I should go find Tracey and tell her."

"No!" Cho snapped. Jane had already riled Tracey up enough earlier that morning.

The spritely blond had shown up in the bull pen ready to spread good cheer and bottles of water to help cool down her colleagues. Jane had rewarded her efforts with a one fingered salute followed by a lecture on the environmental disaster that is bottled water. Tracey had endured his abuse, then turned up her nose and announced that he was right about the environmental impact of plastics, but health and safety protocol dictated that it was the only way for her to distribute water, and maybe they'd have to consider not turning on the AC tomorrow to make up for the bottle usage.

The entire office had overheard the exchange, and the prospect of another day without central air had not gone over well. In fact, Jane had been banned from using his ration of water as punishment. Soft hearted Grace had come to the rescue however, and given him one of her bottles.

"Not a chance Jane," Cho said in a more even tone. "I agree with you that Tracey is a harpy joiner, but I can't do this again tomorrow man, I just can't."

"Please," Jane said. "You were in the military. Aren't you supposed to be able to function no matter what the conditions?"

"I didn't have to work with you in the military."

"Touché."

"Hey you guys, that's enough!" Van Pelt cried. "We shouldn't be getting down on Tracey or the work conditions. We have a lot to be thankful-

A chorus of boos from her male compatriots cut Grace off but she wouldn't be deterred.

"We have a lot to be thankful for," she said again. "Jane," she pointed at the man on the couch, "is not in jail anymore and he won't be going back and-

"Right now I'd rather be in jail," Jane growled. "They had AC."

"AC and anal rape," Cho said."I'll deal with the heat thanks."

Van Pelt's frustration was written all over her face, and Rigsby, ever her champion, felt he should jump in. "Don't listen to them Grace. What else should we be grateful for?"

Van Pelt smiled brightly again and continued. "Well, Jane's not in jail, I got reinstated and Lisbon's shoulder is really coming along. She only has physiotherapy once a week now, and almost full range of movement. We're a lot better off now then we were this time last year-just saying."

The three men had the decency to look thoughtful for several seconds after Grace's soliloquy.

"She's right," Cho stated. "We're acting like babies. Tell you what. I'm going to go get us all iced coffee and donuts, on me. Then we're gonna sit here like bosses and sip them while everyone else melts in their underwear. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!" Rigsby cried. Donuts were never a bad idea in Wayne's world. "I'll come too. I wanna get out of here even if it's just to go down the road to Marie's."

"Alright," Cho said, and swept his car keys up off his desk. "Let's go. Jane, Van Pelt, you hold the fort."

Jane made a vague waving motion from the couch and Van Pelt gave Cho a salute. Once Cho and Rigsby were gone Grace attempted to do a little paper work, but it was hot, and she was bored. Plus, she'd been waiting for a moment like this-a moment to talk to Jane alone- for several weeks now. The events of the past year-her former fiancée turning out to be one of Red John's tools, having to then shoot said fiancée, Jane killing Red John and his subsequent incarceration and trial-engendered her with a strong sense of fellow feeling for the consultant. They had both lost loved ones to the serial killer, and suffered no small amount of shame along the way.

Van Pelt was dealing with it all as best she could. It had been gut-wrenching and world destroying to find out the man who claimed to love her was simply manipulating her for Red John's purposes. Couple that with Craig shooting Lisbon in the shoulder, forcing Grace to shoot him, and it got exponentially worse. She'd been reprimanded for letting O'Laughlin anywhere near the safe house he'd died in, and then relieved of duty for the duration of Jane's trial. Her only consolation was that she'd been suspended with pay, and that her friend did not get locked up for many years to come because he'd shot Red John.

Attending Jane's trial had given Grace a reason to get out of bed every morning. It reminded her that someone else-someone she cared about-was in a much worse position than her. For months she'd left her home only to attend the two C's; court and church. Eventually she'd joined a support group at her church, and the weekly meetings were helping restore her to the happy-go-lucky individual she'd been before the CBI, Red John and Craig. Her innocence was lost forever, she'd never again trust that easily, but she was starting to recover her happiness, and that was truly a miracle.

It was so miraculous in fact, that Grace longed to share it with Jane. If she could come through her experience with Red John, then surely he could. Granted, Red John hadn't murdered her entire family, but he had ruined her life and destroyed her unceasing belief that the world was in the end a good and honorable place, full of good and honorable people. Jane's recovery would no doubt take more time than hers, but Grace had to believe that now, eight years later, and after having gotten his revenge, Jane could finally make some tentative steps to heal.

To that end Grace swiveled her chair around to face her weary colleague and said, "Jane I'm bored. Let's play slap."

"Slap? Really Grace? It's so warm. Can't we do something that doesn't require me to sit up?"

"No, I want to play slap and you promised to help me get better at it. You're the one who said it would improve my poker face, and help me gauge other people's facial expressions."

Jane threw an arm over his eyes and groaned inwardly. "That was before, when we had AC."

"Please Jane? Please, please, pretty please? I'll give you my last bottle of water."

Jane opened one eye and peered out from under his arm at her. Grace was all smiles, and her hair was coiled around her head like Heidi. It was the result of a stifling and slow work day.

Her earnest smile and child like braids reminded him of another tiny face that would often greet him far too early in the morning with a beseeching wail of, _Daddy I want to plaaaaay! Get up Daddy! Please, please, please!_

And he always did. Like every good father he'd haul his ass out of bed and spend the next few hours doling out breakfast while allowing his person to be used as a human jungle gym. That's what great Dads did no matter how much they really wanted to sleep in or maybe, finally, have some post-children sex with their wives.

"Fine Grace," Jane said while leveraging up into a sitting position. "Let's play slap." He offered the red head a blinding smile, and held out his hands palms up.

Grace scooted her chair closer so that she was sitting directly in front of Jane, and with a nervous giggle she placed her hands, palms down just above his. With only millimeters between their hands Grace did her best to school her features into an expressionless mask.

"Good," Jane said when he noticed her effort. "Because what did I tell you the first time we tried this?"

"Not to laugh like a school girl because it was a dead give away I was about to pull my hands back, and you'd slap me."

"Correct," Jane replied. "Now I want you to really concentrate on not giving me any signals. Don't let me know when you're going to pull your hands away. Concentrate Grace. Don't let your mind scream at me."

"If you're not really psychic my mind can't scream at you," Grace quipped and pulled her hands back, but not before Jane's came down on hers with a soft smack.

"Wrong," he said and once again held his hands out, palms up. Grace fitted hers over top. "I can tell simply by the hitch in your voice, the way your eyes change focus, and by the fact you still smile slightly when you're contemplating pulling back. Your mind is regulating all of those unconscious responses Grace. This isn't something supernatural and beyond your power of control. You can stop me from anticipating your next move. You just have to try harder."

"Speaking of changing one's mind…did you read any of the stuff I left on your desk?" she asked, and hoping her question diverted Jane's attention somewhat, pulled her hands away from his.

"Nope," Jane said and quickly slapped her fingers.

"I hoped you would, but I figured you wouldn't just because the pamphlets came from my church. But, it's not a religious thing. The group counseling is for anyone Jane. You don't have to be a believer, and despite your low opinion of us, religious people actually do things out of the goodness of their hearts with no ulterior motive once in awhile."

"Conversion under the guise of group therapy is by definition an ulterior motive Grace."

_Slap!_

"There's no conversion! It's just people talking and healing together. There are people of all different beliefs in the group. Mr. Tan is a Buddhist and last week he taught us how to meditate."

"Whenever a church brings emotionally wounded people together in a group setting they intend to convert. It's just a matter of numbers. Some will resist, others will give in easily. The more people you open the group up to the more likely you are to yield high results."

_Slap!_

"Ouch! Jane!" Van Pelt drew her hands into her chest and looked at him sharply. "That one hurt! You've never really slapped me before."

It was true. He didn't have the heart to really slap poor Grace competitively. Plus, it wouldn't help her learn to control her reactions if she feared being hurt while playing. Now, if he'd been playing with Lisbon on the other hand, they'd both have red fingers by the end of it.

Still, even the best Dads have their limits, and Grace's constant needling about her church group was wearing on his last nerve. Nonetheless, an apology was in order. Grace was not his child, she was his colleague and theoretically a grown up, and thus his equal.

"I'm sorry Grace. You're getting better," Jane said, lying easily. "I had to use more force to catch you."

"Really?" she asked, smile back in place. This was why Jane considered Grace only a theoretical adult. She was too easily pleased.

"Really," he answered. "Alright, let's go again, but this time it's my turn to try and read you. I get to do the slapping."

"You know you actually have to catch my hands to slap them right?"

"I'm confident in my abilities."

"Whatever you say," Jane held his hands out, palms down.

Grace moved to place her hands underneath his, but before she could do so the phone on her desk began to ring shrilly.

"Hold on," she said and swung around to answer the phone. "Good morning, California Bureau of Investigation, Grace Van Pelt speaking. Oh, hi, Lisbon! How is two weeks off working out for you?"

Jane listened intently to Grace's one sided conversation. He could hear the inflections of Lisbon's voice coming from the phone, but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

"Did you get the right one?" Grace asked. "Tell me what the bottle says…no, yeah that's the right one. I put it on about fifteen minutes before I go out, then I do twenty minutes on my front, and twenty minutes on my back. You might want to start out with like, five or ten minutes."

What the deuce where the two women taking about? Bottles? Front and back? Jane couldn't make hide, nor hare of it.

Grace exchanged a few more pleasantries with her boss before hanging up and turning back to Jane.

"What was that all about?" Jane asked.

"Oh, it was Lisbon," Grace said as if that fact wasn't plain as day to Jane.

"And?" he asked expectantly while quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, she decided to use her first day off to sun bathe down at the Pier. And, she wanted to know what tanning lotion I use, because lets face it," Grace said extending her bare and golden arms, "It works."

"Lisbon is sun bathing?" Jane asked incredulously.

"Yeah, she bought this new bikini that sounds super cute, I haven't seen it, but she told me about it, and of course she's not totally comfortable wearing it because she's Lisbon, but I told her to go for it. You might as well, even on a stay-cation."

Jane continued to stare at Van Pelt as if she'd just told him that Lisbon was killing and eating babies.

Grace noticed his strange expression and misread it to mean condemnation.

"I know, I know, tanning is bad for you, it causes cancer, blah, blah, blah. But, I don't drink, I don't smoke and I eat well and work out. A girl's got to have one vice right? And Lisbon rarely takes any time off, so it's not like tanning is going to be a regular occurrence for her-

Jane pushed off the couch and made for the bull pen's exit without so much as sparing Grace a backwards glance.

"Jane!" she called at his back. "Where are you going? Wayne and Cho will be back any minute now!"

The consultant stopped just shy of the glass partition between their office and the hallway before spinning around.

"I don't like the sounds of this whole Lisbon lying in the sun with only tanning lotion for protection situation. What's the SPF factor in your beloved lotion?"

Grace grimaced. "It's six or eight. Eight I'm pretty sure."

"Eight!" Jane cried. "That's nothing! No, this won't do at all. Lisbon's as Irish as the bogs, and she'll burn to a crisp. Someone's going to have to bring her some SPF 50, and admonish her for being so fool hardy. And well, I'm the only one besides yourself who knows where she is, and unlike you, I'm not strictly an employee of the state. I'm free to come and go, so I think I'll being going. Bye, Grace, tell Cho I left to ensure our fearless leader doesn't get sun stroke."

"He won't like that!" Grace yelled at Jane's retreating form.

Jane, as expected, made no indication he cared one way or the other. He plunged into the elevator, and pushed the down button without a second thought for what Cho may, or may not, like. Lisbon's well being was on the line, and it gave him the perfect excuse not to have to listen to Grace's proselytizing anymore. The promise of seeing Lisbon in a possibly itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, bikini, was in no way an extra enticement. Bringing his boss sunscreen was an act of unadulterated charity, just like Grace's church, and its inter-faith group sessions for the depressed, lonely, and easily lead.

_TBC…this one won't be long, just another short chapter. Seems I enjoy the fluff in summer. Also folks, always wear your sunscreen. _


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to _The Mentalist_. Lyrics and title are from the Feist song "Past in Present" from the album, _The Reminder_

A/N: So turns out there'll need to be a third and final chapter in order to give Jane and Lisbon the time and space to converse properly. This whole story is based on an interview I read with Bruno Heller in which he commented on the upcoming season and what Jane would be like if indeed Red John is dead; _From Jane's point of view, he doesn't want to play games any more. [He wants] to pull back a bit from that kind of obsessive chase, because it's the obsessive chase that has gotten him into problems in the first place._ Couldn't agree more, but then I've always thought dark and intricate usually equals overwrought and cheesey.

Conversion Chapter 2: Past in Present 

_Revenge... is like a rolling stone, which, when a man hath forced up a hill, will return upon him with a greater violence, and break those bones whose sinews gave it motion._

-_Albert Schweitzer_

_Feeling it from dark to bright  
>When a wrong becomes a right<br>When a mountain fills with light  
>It's a volcano, it's a volcano<br>It's a volcano, it's a volcano_

_So much present, inside my present_  
><em>Inside my present<em>  
><em>So, so much past<em>

_-Leslie Fiest, Past in Present_

* * *

><p>Teresa Lisbon bit her lip and considered her options. The sandy riverside was teeming with people intent on spending a nice day at the closest thing to a beach that Sacramento had to offer. Lisbon looked left, then right and tried to determine where best to lay her towel out.<p>

Ordinarily she'd just plop down on the nearest spot of free sand, but today was no ordinary day. Today Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, control freak extraordinaire was going to willingly do something outside of her comfort zone on purpose. Well, semi-willingly at least. There was more than a little hesitation in her movements as she weaved between blankets and beach umbrellas to find a place to squat.

Lisbon picked her way through sun worshippers and children making sand castles until she had to face the fact that soon she would run out of sand if she didn't just have it over with and perch somewhere. She stopped and considered turning around, maybe she'd backtrack a little and sit down, but no she couldn't. It might draw attention, and she didn't want that.

_It's going to be the same no matter where you sit_, she thought and moved forward a few feet. Right now, if she sat down she'd be positioned between a gaggle of middle aged mother's on a sunny day outing with their offspring, and a mixed gender group of teenagers. Lisbon edged as close as she could to the mothers and settled next to a small sand dune that she prayed would shield her from the teens. There was no way she wanted sixteen year old boys leering at her, and she didn't want to be forced to witness the youthful perfection of their female friends. Her mind was already screaming at her that she was too old for this shit, or more specifically too old to be lying on a beach in a string bikini.

Lisbon sighed and dropped her beach tote, and then she spent an inordinate amount of time arranging and rearranging her towel on the sand. Finally she sat down and tried to act natural. She'd worn a tank top and shorts just in case her courage failed her and she didn't want to look like some overdressed weirdo on the beach. All she had to do was slip off her clothes nonchalantly. The tanning lotion Van Pelt had recommended was already glistening on her skin. It had been applied hastily before she left the house, because no way she was lying out-semi-naked- and rubbing lotion all over her body in public. She was committed to her goal, but only willing to push herself so far.

* * *

><p>It had been a stormy evening back in February when Lisbon had formulated this particular goal. Rain had beaten down on the city for days, and Jane's trial had reached the one month mark. She'd come home from court exhausted and feeling at loose ends.<p>

The trial had gotten underway as soon as the courts were back in session after Christmas holidays. What a way to ring in the New Year. Jane had spent the eight months preceding his trial in jail. Lisbon and Bertram had pulled some strings to ensure he was held in a minimum security facility and away from the other prisoners. The judge had been hesitant to grant the former request, he felt a murder warranted a maximum security stay, but he'd easily conceded to the latter. Jane had put away too many criminals, first time offenders and long term professionals. It wouldn't be safe for him to walk amongst his peers in jail.

Jail didn't look good on Jane. For the first time since she'd met him Lisbon had been forced to reckon with a new side of her long time colleague. Since the arrest he'd become quieter, somewhat docile and she could tell once the legal proceedings got underway that Jane was actually scared. The prosecution had come hard and prepared to put him away for committing vigilante justice. When the DA had told Cho, months earlier that they'd screwed any chance they had for mercy, by investigating his possible links to Red John he'd not been kidding. Oscar Ardiles had an axe to grind with the CBI and he planned to take his anger out on Patrick Jane. There'd been no way for Jane's attorney to argue conflict of interest on the part of the DA's office without acknowledging misconduct on the part of Lisbon's team for their involvement in the consultant's less than kosher sheltering of Madeline Hightower when she'd been a fugitive.

Ardiles' opening arguments had been passionate, full of hellfire and worst of all, convincing. The state had the added benefit of always getting to field the opening kick off. Jane's defense attorney was more than competent and the best money could buy, but he wasn't as personally invested in Jane's redemption as Ardiles was in the consultant's damnation.

Lisbon had left the courtroom that February day with serious misgivings about Jane's future. The worst part of it all was she could tell, just by looking at him, that Jane himself was beginning to entertain the idea that he may very well spend the rest of his life behind bars, and that thought clearly unnerved him. Insecure Jane was not a Jane Lisbon had ever expected to deal with. It was okay for her and the team to panic over Jane's chances, but it was okay only because they assumed he'd be sitting there, cool as a cucumber and prepared to talk his way out lifetime imprisonment. Instead, Jane had sat silently through the opening arguments, only speaking when addressed by the judge, and his tone was always deferential.

It was hard to believe that this Jane was the same man who had once cheekily represented himself in court. Sure, he'd lost the case and gotten a $16,000 fine, but he hadn't technically been wrong, he'd just been arrogant and the judge used that as an excuse. Had Jane challenged the fine with a real lawyer, if he'd cared enough to do so, he could have won. But that Jane, Old Jane, as Lisbon thought of him now, couldn't have been bothered. The money wasn't an issue and he was satisfied with knowing he'd been on the right side of the law. New Jane lacked this irreverent confidence.

His meek behavior was completely appropriate for a man facing a first degree murder charge, but it was entirely inappropriate for Jane. If he didn't foresee an easy way out from under a life sentence, then Lisbon certainly couldn't fathom how it would all end well.

Ardiles' impressive and systematic attacks, coupled with Jane's obvious distress made the whole trial nearly unbearable for Lisbon, but she had to be there, both to testify and to support her friend. So, she was there every morning as soon as the court room doors opened, with Van Pelt in tow. The younger agent would sit silently beside Lisbon, grip her boss's hand and pray softly for things to go in Jane's favor.

Lisbon had come home that night, at the one month mark, with the weight of the world on her shoulders. The weather was shit, Jane's chances were shit and she had no idea how to continue going forward without resorting to blind faith. She had to simply believe, whether it was a rational belief or not, that Jane would not wind up behind bars for the rest of his natural life. Luckily, Van Pelt made sustaining this false sense of security fairly easy. Grace couldn't be convinced no matter how bad things got that Jane would not be shown mercy by the eleven men and women of the jury. But, she was also emotionally fragile and subject to erratic mood swings. This allowed Lisbon to fuss over her subordinate, and that provided a much needed distraction.

Lisbon hated dwelling on her own fears or feelings and Grace's meltdowns meant she didn't have to.

Despite this there were days when it all got to be too much, and that blustery winter's night had been one of the hard times. Lisbon had fallen into her condo, mail in hand, unable to contemplate accomplishing anything but lying on her couch and getting drunk. Getting plastered meant she'd have to make it as far as the fridge, so she laid down the mail and headed for the kitchen.

When she returned with a cold beer something amongst the various bills and flyers scattered on the couch caught her eye. It was a glossy catalogue; its cover was bright and full of tropical scenes, not to mention bikini clad women who looked like extras from _The Real Housewives of Orange County_. Lisbon rolled her eyes. It seemed she was still getting mail addressed to the condo's former tenant, Ms. Valerie Wagner.

Lisbon had kept the art work Valerie had left behind up on the walls, but their shared taste went no further. The little bits of post that still dribbled in addressed to Valerie told the agent that the former occupant of her home was most definitely a girly girl. Valerie received catalogues from Victoria's Secret, Sephora, JCrew and now some store that obviously dealt in skanky beach and day chose to ignore the catalogue and switched on the TV.

Concentrating on the screen proved to be difficult however, and after three more beers Lisbon found her eyes shifting towards the bikini models again and again. The cover scene just looked so welcoming. Who wouldn't want to be in on a beach somewhere hot in the dead of winter? Sure, California winters weren't brutal like Chicago winters, but they still grated on the soul just like the snowy ones, especially when someone you cared about was on trial for murder.

She'd taken another swig of beer and reached for the magazine. It wasn't like Valerie was ever coming back for it. Besides, if nothing else she could definitely play a rousing game of, "Are they real or are they fake?" while browsing through the publication.

Lisbon flipped it open and almost spit out her beer. Was the company a _Play Boy_ subsidiary or a bathing suit retailer? The model was contorted into a pose that could only be described as tits out-ass up, and she was making that face common to all her ilk that is supposed to convey sexiness, but mostly comes off as, "I have to pooh". The blonde bombshell on the page was wearing little more than a skimpy leopard print bikini, and acrylic nails.

"Fake!" Lisbon cried and downed some more ale.

She quickly scanned a few more pages."Fake, fake, fake, fake, fake…real…fucking Miranda Kerr…havin' babies with movie stars and never getting fat. Look at me I'm Australian and my boobs are real!"

Lisbon was about to toss the magazine down in disgust, when she spotted it, just there, in upper left hand corner. Ms. Kerr-Bloom had almost caused her to miss it. It was an emerald green bikini covered in sequins of the same color. The customer, if so inclined could purchase the same suit in deep purple or silver, but Lisbon had eyes only for the green sparkles.

The suit made her think of Jane. He always said she should wear more green. Thinking about Jane led to thinking about how different he was these days. He'd lost his drive for revenge, even questioned, and perhaps regretted, his decision to shoot Red John. Lisbon had never thought she'd see the day when Patrick Jane would deign to be humbled by his own misdeeds. She'd spent years trying to convince him revenge was not the answer, and had proclaimed loudly to him, and anyone who would listen that he would change his mind in the end.

But, he didn't change his mind, and really, deep down she'd never expected him to. She's simply hoped to be there with him when the moment came to act as the voice of reason, to talk him down.

That too didn't come to pass, and now Jane was changing, slowly, right in front of her and she could watch his transformation everyday in the courtroom as he sat somberly next to his attorney. At every jailhouse visitation it was a chastened man, wearing an orange jump suit who greeted her from across the partition glass, phone receiver in hand. The man in the garish jumper looked like Jane, but he didn't act like him.

She wondered briefly what kind of reaction she'd get from this New Jane if she showed up to her next visit in the sparkly, green bikini. Of course she'd never do such a thing, but the glittery fabric had hijacked her imagination and it caused a radical notion to germinate inside her head. Lisbon decided she was going to buy that God damn bikini, but the catch was she wouldn't open the package, wouldn't even wear it unless Jane walked away from the courtroom a free man.

If Jane got acquitted, or hell, even probation, community service, a commuted sentence, anything but hard time, she'd be so relieved, and she, Teresa Lisbon would actually take her two week vacation once summer rolled around. She wouldn't leave Sacramento. Something told her that even if he was set free Jane would need her, need the team, and if he didn't, if he made good on her fear that he'd leave the CBI post Red John, well, he'd have to do it on her watch. Lisbon wasn't going to give him the opportunity to slink off without so much as a good-bye while she lay on a beach in Cabo San Lucas.

But, she would wear the bikini, just not actually in front of Jane, or anyone she knew at all, if she could help it.

Jane was changing, adapting to fit whatever future the jury would dole out to him, and he wasn't the only one. Grace had recommitted herself to her faith with gusto and was attending weekly support meetings in the church basement. Lisbon felt it was high time she adjusted to life after Red John as well. Whatever Jane decided to do if he was set free, was out of her control, and she needed to focus on herself.

Step one, purchase ludicrous swimsuit, step two, immediately put in for two weeks summer vacation at work the next day, step three, follow through and actually take the vacation and wear the outrageous bikini.

In the end it wasn't about the swimsuit, it was about what the bikini represented; she, Teresa Lisbon would do something different, something outside her norm. Mostly she wanted to make a small, long term plan that didn't involve work, Jane or the pursuit of Red John. It was becoming clear that Jane, and everyone else on the team was starting to view their current existence as "the time after Red John", and Lisbon didn't want to be the only one stagnating. Besides, she'd spent the last eight years, _eight years_, letting her life revolve around the hunt for a serial killer. She didn't regret it, well not all of it, but now that Jane's raison d'être was no more, it was becoming abundantly clear to her how small she'd allowed her own world to shrink in the past decade.

It wasn't like she was getting any younger. Thirty-nine was looming large, and then forty. Lisbon wasn't sure just what she wanted more, or less, of in her life. The white picket fence with 2.5 kids didn't hold much appeal to her, but she also wasn't ready to rule anything out, if for no other reason then she'd never made the time to figure out what kind of life she wanted beyond the office. It was time to start making those decisions.

"Done and done!" Lisbon said to her empty living room. Then she rifled through her wallet for her credit card and did the one thing a girl should never do, she shopped under the influence.

Four months later, on May 23rd -a day before closing arguments were to begin- the jury deliberating Jane's case requested an audience with the judge. His Honor Cheb Collingwood obliged them and spent the next two hours sequestered with eleven firm, but fair individuals. It became apparent to Collingwood that the jury would not be able to reach a verdict easily. They seemed to be in agreement that there was no reasonable doubt present in this case. Patrick Jane had killed a man, and that man just happened to be a serial killer. The problem was the jury wasn't sure just how upset they were over the loss, and they certainly didn't feel bad enough to give Jane a life sentence, but there didn't seem to be any other options open to them save for guilty or not.

The judge explained to them that it was not supposed to matter what the victim had been in life, the point was murder-if not committed in self-defense, an act of passion or by a person with diminished capacity-is murder and must be prosecuted as such. Of course, as a former trial lawyer Collingwood knew better then to expect such straight forward instructions to be followed by members of the public at large. Ultimately the jury would weigh the evidence with scales tainted by their own morals and biases, and the system would continue to lurch, imperfectly, but necessarily, along.

Collingwood left the meeting with a plan he hoped would appease the prosecution and the defense. He called Adiles into his chambers and suggested a compromise. "Mr. Jane pleads guilty to manslaughter and I sentence him to time served and probation. He gets a record, you get a conviction and it means he'll never be able to work in law enforcement again."

Adiles had been livid. "With all due respect your honor, no deal. There's no question he did it. He can't argue diminished capacity and this wasn't a crime of passion. I don't care how much he cried while he pulled that trigger! Patrick Jane planned the set up and murder of Red John, doesn't matter if it didn't go down exactly as he planned."

"Ah, ah, ah, Oscar," the judge countered. "There in lies the subtlety of the law. Yes, I have no doubt Mr. Jane spent the better part of the last ten years plotting his revenge against Red John. The problem is he quite clearly, from the testimony of Gale Bertram, did not expect to shoot the man that day in a shopping mall."

"No, he intended to shoot Bertram if he had been Red John! It amounts to the same thing!"

"To you and me it amounts to the same thing, but not to eleven people without even a hint of a legal education. I'm telling you that a deal may be the only way you get even a taste of what you want Oscar. Don't let pride erode your judgment."

Adiles paced the chambers restlessly. "No, no Cheb, I know you think that a plea will make things better, but we'd be catering to emotion, not the law. I'll explain it to the jury in my closing arguments. I'll make them see that you can sympathize with Patrick Jane all you like, but you can't set him free."

Collingwood crossed his arms. "If I thought you were turning the plea down because you were simply worried about upholding the sanctity of the law Oscar I'd agree. But, meeting the jury's emotional response to this case with your own is a recipe for disaster. If you don't think Patrick Jane could walk off scot free despite the evidence you've clearly forgotten that O.J. Simpson is a free man. Don't use this case to settle a personal score, because it'll backfire in your face."

Adiles disregarded the judge's argument, and it turned out truer words had never been spoken. When faced with the prospect of being allowed only to convict or acquit Jane of murder one, the jury just didn't have the guts. Two days later when Collingwood asked the forewoman to deliver the jury's verdict she said the words no prosecutor wants to hear, "not guilty".

Lisbon's world had stopped spinning for a few seconds after the verdict had been read out. Then it became a blur of hugs from Grace and the rest of the team. She could remember clinging to Jane after he finished shaking hands with his lawyer, but the embrace was over as quickly as it had begun. Then Jane was being hustled back to the holding cell were he'd spend one last night in jail while his paperwork was processed.

Later, after the celebratory drinks and pizza with Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt, Lisbon had gone home and torn the packaging off the green bikini. She did a few self-satisfying turns in the mirror before changing into her pajamas and collapsing into bed. Her last thoughts before drifting off were of Jane, and she made a mental note to meet him bright and early the next day outside the courthouse with one of his own suits and nice bottle of scotch.

* * *

><p>Back on the beach Lisbon remembered the smile Jane had given her after changing into his own clothes, and then she pulled off her tank top and shorts before stretching out in the sun.<p>

* * *

><p>Down in the center of the city Cho and Rigsby were standing in a long line up. Marie's was beyond busy, the hot weather having encouraged people to get out and mingle.<p>

Rigsby watched a group of scantily clad co-eds order iced coffees and began to feel a little more amiable towards the oppressive heat.

"Hey," Cho's one syllable prompt drew Rigsby's attention reluctantly away from the four girls who were now pressing the cold beverages to various parts of themselves.

"Yeah?" Rigsby answered; one eye still on the girls.

"I wanted to tell you...I mean I'm thinking of..." Cho fumbled to begin, and then he noticed Rigsby's distracted state. "Hey! I'm trying to tell you something important here!"

Now he had Rigbsy's total attention. Cho sounded confessional, and Cho never sounded confessional. Even four frat girls in tiny outfits couldn't compare to an opening up on the part of his most stoic of friends.

"What's up?" Rigsby asked. "I'm here-totally present-I swear."

"No forget it," Cho said and turned back to line up.

"What? No way dude, you can't tease me like that."

"What do you care?" Cho's question actually sounded peevish. _Cho_ sounded peevish, maybe even upset.

"I care because you're my friend," Wayne said honestly. "And you can deny that all you want and call me your colleague, or tell me you don't want to discuss my feelings when I've got something important to share, but I know the difference. You wouldn't be getting huffy like a teenage girl if you didn't have something major on your mind you want to unload so have at it."

Cho looked up to see how many people were still ahead of them in line and gauged how much time he had to say what he needed to say. He and Rigsby were still four bodies back from the service counter. That had to be time enough.

"I'm going to ask Elise to marry me," Cho stated.

"What?" Rigsby cried.

"Don't make a scene."

"I'm not making a scene. I'm surprised, but happy. Congratulations man, that's great! Do you have a ring yet?"

Cho reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a box. "Got it right here."

"Why the hell are you carrying that around? You could lose it at a crime scene or drop it anywhere."

Cho looked at the tiny, velvet box and let out a sigh. "I take it everywhere because I'm waiting for the right moment to ask her. So, I carry it on me just in case. I just…the thing is…the right moment hasn't happened. I don't know what to do. I've been carrying three months salary around in my suit jacket for six weeks now."

Rigsby blinked a few times. "Are you telling me you don't know how this whole proposal thing works?"

Cho made a face. "What do you mean how it works? You get down on one knee and you ask. I'm just waiting for the right time and place."

Rigsby was about to interject, but the woman behind the counter pre-empted him. "Can I take your order please?"

Apparently the line up had progressed without their knowledge. Cho quickly and efficiently placed their order and handed Rigsby a box of donuts.

"Don't eat them all before we get back to the office," Cho mumbled, before walking away to collect their coffees.

"Oh no you don't," Rigsby said and followed him to the coffee station. "Don't try to sweep this under the rug. We're not going back to office yet. Sit down."

"We told Van Pelt we'd be back," Cho said.

"She'll live," Rigsby retorted. "Plus, they've got air conditioning here. Now sit."

"Fine."

Rigsby led Cho to a secluded table by the window and sat the donuts on it. Then he pulled up a chair and indicated for Cho to do the same.

"First of all, you don't wait for the perfect moment to propose," Rigsby said. "You have to sort of create the moment. You know, take Elise out to dinner or go for a long walk somewhere nice and without crowds. If you guys have a place that's special to you go there."

Cho's nostrils flared. "I hate that crap. The whole putting the ring in her dessert -or hiding it in a small box inside bigger boxes-that's lame."

"No, it's romantic. I know those two words mean the same thing to you, but this isn't about you it's about Elise."

"Alright, alright, the thing is, I'm not good at romantic overtures. I never was. I want her to be surprised, but she'll see right through me."

Wayne considered this for a moment. Cho wasn't wrong. If Elise came home to her boyfriend cooking a fancy dinner with rose petals strewn everywhere she'd know something was up, but she'd most likely suspect Cho had fallen victim to a body snatching alien. Abduction by extraterrestrials was more probable than a romantic proposal from Cho.

"Well, how about we get you some help?" Rigsby suggested. "I know he annoys you from time to time, but Jane is pretty smooth-

"No!" Cho cried. "I don't want Jane involved. By the end of it there'd be fire works, doves being released from cages and Elise would have to answer three questions from a magical troll to get her ring."

"A magical troll?"

"You know what I mean."

"Are you sure the problem isn't that you just don't want to ask for Jane's help because it would entail asking for Jane's help?"

"There's that too."

Rigsby popped open the donut box and selected a Boston cream. "Well," he said through a mouthful of custard, "then let's ask Grace."

Cho gave him a blank stare. Rigsby had come to learn that all of Cho's stares, while similar in appearance meant something different. This one was challenging Wayne to find the stupid in his previous statement.

"What?" Rigsby asked.

"You think I didn't consider Van Pelt and then reconsider five seconds later? Think about what she's been through this year. Engagements might be a touchy subject right now."

"Oh yeah, but you know what? It's Grace. She'll just be happy for you."

"She will," Cho said. "But that doesn't mean I should be insensitive just because she's a great person who will suck it up and help out anyway."

Rigsby nodded his agreement. "Well, then if you're not going to listen to me, you've only got one option."

"Jane."

"Yup."

"I know. I just hate the thought of being beholden to his ego for anything," Cho conceded.

Rigsby polished off his donut before making his next argument. "I get that, but Jane's changed since he went to jail. I mean he's still Jane, but different."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Cho said. "Despite his reaction to Tracey today, he's mellowed. He's still an asshole sometimes, but he's not such an overall, all round dick anymore."

"Come on, he was never that bad," Rigsby argued.

"Sure he was. You're just easier prey for his bullshit carney tricks than I am."

Rigsby played with his coffee cup. "You think?"

"I know," Cho replied.

"Then how can we be sure he's different now?"

Cho rummaged around in the donut box until he found the apple fritter. "Because I'm willing to believe he's changed, even if it's just a little."

Rigsby's only response was to slurp loudly on the iced coffee in front of him.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, the man in question was on the other side of town, tramping through the sandy bank of the river. Jane did his best to maneuver around the people and belongings littering the shore. The large shopping bag in his right hand, and his dress shoes, were impeding the process.<p>

Jane had actually stopped to pick up sun block for Lisbon at a local pharmacy, but then he'd gone a step further. The drugstore, like most chain stores was now trying to drum up more business by selling everything under the sun, as opposed to just the things one associates with an apothecary. Jane had come across a large, floppy and foldable sun hat that was perfect for Lisbon. It was a bit ridiculous looking, but that was kind of the point.

Now he just had to find the silly woman. Jane scanned the crowd, but he didn't see anyone resembling Lisbon in the immediate vicinity. He remembered that Van Pelt had suggested Lisbon was nervous about wearing her bathing suit in public and decided to keep walking. Knowing Lisbon she'd have hidden herself behind a large rock or underneath some heavy brush.

Jane wandered until he spotted a group of teenagers lounging beside a substantial sand dune. Just down from the teens was a group of middle aged Moms and their kids. Aside from these two disparate groups there was no one else around. Perfect! Lisbon had to be around here somewhere.

He past the teenagers who did their best to pretend they didn't care about his existence, but couldn't help covertly staring at his odd beach attire. A three piece suit wasn't a common sight at a time and place like this. Jane rounded the group of mothers and gave them a smile meant to break hearts before ambling towards the other side of the dune.

He came to a halt abruptly. The only person on the other side of the dune was another teenager-a girl-in a sparkly green bikini and large aviator sunglasses. She was facing away from him reading a magazine, and fiddling with her IPod. Jane didn't want to seem like some lecherous pervert so he backed away quickly, just as the girl started to roll over, after finding the appropriate musical accompaniment for her sunbathing.

Jane was about to beat a hasty exit when the young woman removed her sunglasses, squinted at him, and said, "Jane? What are you doing here?"

He almost dropped the shopping bag. This girl was no teenager. He thought about how he'd once solved a case with a cell phone and a trick of light. Turns out strategically placed sequins can play havoc with the mind as well.

Jane didn't know where to look. He didn't have the benefit of shades to hide his gaze. Lisbon was lying in front of him, all but naked, save for two small scraps of fabric.

Unless you counted the top as two pieces, it had two triangles after all, plus three strings, and he really had to stop staring at all of it.

"Jane? Hello? Why are you here?" Lisbon repeated her question.

He should have replied with something suave, after all he was known for his silver tongue, had made a fortune with it even, but all that came out was, "Lisbon, hey, you're uh, not wearing you're necklace."

_TBC…one more chapter and that is all I promise_.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Mentalist. Lyrics from Feist's "My Moon My Man" from the album _The Reminder_.

A/N: I've returned to academia and the workload is immense. So, I'm only getting around to updating this now. My other stories "El Scorcho" and "World Your Rock" are still in play, I will update them, but it will be a slow process. It's the best I can do while school's on.

This chapter is for Yaba who is fighting the same fight as me with the books right now, and Merrywillow and Donnamour who keep the candles burning for me in the window of fanfic just in case, because they know I might go away sometimes, but I always come back.

Conversion Chapter 3:My Moon My Man

"_It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change."_

_Charles Darwin_

_My moon, my man  
>So changeable and<br>Such a loveable lamb to me_

_My care, my coat  
>Leave on a high note<br>There's nowhere to go but on_

_Heart on my sleeve  
>Not where it should be<br>The song's out of key again_

_My moon's white face_  
><em>What day and what phase<em>  
><em>It's the calendar page again<em>

_Take it slow  
>Take it easy on me<br>And shed some light  
>Shed some light on me please<br>Take it slow  
>And shed some light<br>Shed some light on me please_

-Leslie Feist "My Moon My Man"

* * *

><p>Teresa Lisbon perched her sunglasses on her forehead and waited for whatever was going to come out of her colleague Patrick Jane's mouth next. His last garbled sentence was just hanging there between them, and she had to assume there was more to come. He'd just interrupted her first day off, during her first vacation in five years. Surely he had a good reason, and wasn't about to leave his answer to her inquiry as to what exactly he was doing butting into her day with, "You're uh, not wearing your necklace".<p>

No shit Sherlock. She wasn't wearing much of anything come to that. It was summer in California, and even if they were in the Northern portion of the state Sacramento was experiencing a heat wave. Plus, she was at The Pier, chilling out riverside as the young people put it, so of course she was wearing a bathing suit. True, it was a tiny, sparkly, green bikini that she had never meant for anyone she worked with, or knew, to ever see her wear, but that was beside the point. Jane was not supposed to be here, standing in front of her, dress shoes sinking into the sand, and laden with shopping bags.

He didn't seem to be ready to revise his answer so Lisbon prompted him again.

"Jane? So, I'll ask again…what are you doing here? You're supposed to be at work."

Jane tried to stare anywhere but at her semi-nude body. He fixated on a point over her head and imbued his voice with mirth and false confidence. "Meh, Lisbon aren't we all supposed to be doing something? Work, school, achieving, settling down, having kids, you know adhering to the Protestant work ethic?"

"Um no? You're supposed to be at work and I'm supposed to be on vacation. I'm free to be wherever I want for the next two weeks. You however, are supposed be at the CBI building doing your job."

Jane continued to stare at the grass waving on the dune above her head. "We both know my terms of employment are…fluid. I retain the right to come and go as I please on a consulting basis."

Lisbon's eyes widened and she snorted. "No, you are contractually obligated as is any other non-bargaining employee to be at work for a certain amount of time, at a specific time, in return for the above average salary we pay you for consulting."

"Po-tay-toe, Po-tah-toe, Lisbon. I get paid like a boss because the CBI needs me, because I close cases quicker than their most seasoned agents. Such expertise, in my opinion, also warrants my right to make my own hours. Plus, who spends more time in the CBI doing extra hours- me or you? I sleep there woman, this is a fight you can't win."

"You aren't working in those extra hours! You're sleeping on that disgusting couch or-

"Lisbon really, disgusting? Mind Mildred's feelings would you? She's an old girl, but a reliable, comfortable girl who holds me while I sleep and asks for nothing in return."

"You do know that it's ridiculous you named your couch Mildred?"

"Why? Van Pelt named her fancy, new Macbook Air, Photon because it's faster than a beam of light. No one made fun of her for that. Well, I did behind her back and I could tell Cho was inflamed with sarcasm on the inside, but neither of us said anything to her face."

Lisbon scrubbed at her eyes and then cursed. The damn tanning lotion was still on her hands, and now it was in her eyes. Her patience was waning. "Jane, this is my vacation, I'm supposed to be relaxing. I shouldn't have to see anyone from work, discuss work or deal with you. Why are you here? Is there some pressing reason why you hunted me down or are you just being a nuisance as usual?"

Jane hid the dip in his spirits at her classification of him as a nuisance behind a blinding smile. When he'd first been acquitted the team had been so relieved they'd granted him a grace period. For a short time he could do no wrong and work no nerves no matter how hard he tried. And he really didn't try that much. He was too happy to be back and still accepted amongst the closest thing he had to friends.

It would seem, however, that getting out of jail for free was no longer a catch all, get out of jail free excuse with Lisbon.

"Absence really does make the heart grow fonder," Jane grumbled under his breath.

"Come again?" Lisbon asked.

"I said yes, Lisbon I have a pressing reason to be here!"

Her eyes were full of skepticism. "Let's hear it then."

"I have it on Van Pelt's good authority that you came here today with the intention of sun-bathing, during a heat wave, with little more than SPF 8 to protect yourself with. Tsk, tsk Lisbon."

Jane stuck out the shopping bags towards her. "In order to rectify your oversight I took it upon myself to purchase, and deliver to you the following goods."

Lisbon reached for the bags and looked inside. One bag contained a large beach towel, while the other was occupied by a floppy, lurid colored sunhat in a paisley print and a bottle of SPF 45.

"I'm not wearing that hat," she stated.

"Yes you will. From the position of the sun it's about 2 o'clock. We're right in the peak time for the UV index. Noon to 4pm is dangerous for people like you Lisbon, you know this, and that's why you bought the tanning lotion. It's not going to work you know, you won't tan, you never do. You'll burn and peel, like always, as you know. You know you should wear the hat and put on some sunscreen."

Jane kept his voice pitched at an even, soothing pace throughout his soliloquy, and repeated the phrase "you know" as often as he could. Lisbon would never succumb to his mental prodding if she thought he was manipulating her. She needed to hear key words that suggested whatever action she took was her idea first.

Lisbon considered his reasoning. Now that she thought about she did feel warm, and it didn't help that as she pondered Jane kept exclaiming about the heat. She didn't want to admit he was right, but she also didn't want to spend the rest of her vacation nursing a burn.

"You know," she said, unconsciously echoing his prompt. "I don't want to ruin my vacation with a burn. And Van Pelt said to only do twenty minutes in the sun with this stuff, so I think I'll put on some sunscreen, but I'm still not wearing that hat."

"Totally your call Lisbon," Jane said and sat next to the shopping bags. He removed his jacket and vest before hauling off his socks and shoes. He proceeded to roll up his pant legs as Lisbon stared at him hard. "What?" he asked.

"So you're staying then? You're not just going to drop this stuff off and leave? You're seriously crashing my vacation?"

Jane made a hurt face designed to bring on her Catholic guilt. "I'm sorry Lisbon, I just assumed you wouldn't mind some company, especially since I was thoughtful enough to bring you sunscreen," he added just enough hesitation to his voice, "and I just thought, well I thought we could spend some time together. We used to do that a lot, and then, well jail has a way of curbing a man's social calendar."

"We never socialized before you went to jail," Lisbon fired back without thinking.

The look on his face was already giving her the guilts and now his expression had morphed into something even more pitiful. She scrambled to save the situation.

"But," she drew the word out slowly, "things are different now, and maybe we should make an effort to socialize. You deserve it after a year of solitary confinement."

The scent of Lisbon's tanning lotion wafted up between them. The smell reminded Jane of summer, but first and foremost of girls.

Memories of sunny, hot afternoons spent trying not to seem like he was ogling the local girls at whatever watering hole, in whichever town the carnival had stopped in, came flooding back to Jane. The recollections were little more than jumbled images now, a flash of sun browned skin, a flip of hair, the snap of chewing gum. He'd never had a normal childhood, so he treasured the tiny bits of his coming of age that fit with the universal norm. His interaction with girls had always been that of an ordinary boy, an ordinary boy gifted with extraordinary good looks.

Maybe it was the sweet, coconut like scent of the lotion, or the way the tanning oil glistened on her skin, Jane couldn't say why, but he felt a deep pull of physical longing, the kind he'd not experienced since those days at the watering holes when the feel of a woman's body underneath him was something as yet to be experienced.

The desire battled with his usually steadfast self-control, and lust won out long enough for him to mumble, "I was in solitary confinement for a lot longer than a year Lisbon."

It might have been the greatest truth he'd ever told her, even bigger than the revelation about the mental hospital or his part in Hightower's disappearance. Still, there was something else needed, another admission before Lisbon was willing to give this simple utterance a gold medal.

"I guess that's true," she said nonchalantly. "So…"

"So, I'm thinking enjoying a sunny day at the beach with a close friend is a good place to start."

Lisbon did her best not to look flabbergasted because Jane seemed completely at ease with his previous statement.

Still, she couldn't help blurting out, "We're close friends now?"

He smiled and sighed. "Lisbon we've always been friends, even when I didn't want to be. You, Grace, Rigsby-not really Cho, but he's come around-you've all been there the last nine years trying to cajole me into some semblance of friendship. Largely I'm sure in order to try and pre-empt my plans to end Red John. To give me something to live for, and make me more than a man with nothing left to lose. "

"You're not wrong," she admitted. "But you seem much more amiable to our overtures now."

"Overtures hey Lisbon? That word of the day calendar is really coming in handy."

"It was a Secret Santa gift from Rigsby. What was I supposed to do? Throw it out and hurt his feelings? Don't change the subject."

Jane spread his vest and coat beneath himself and lay back in the sand. "I don't know if I'd say I'm more amiable, so much as I'd say these days I'm not taking any part of my freedom for granted. Jail is…it is punishment Lisbon. It is exactly what it is supposed to be, and more so for a Traveller like me. We don't grow up in houses, we roam, so to confine us… it's counter to everything I am. Being inside, it was the first time I felt like I couldn't handle something through sheer will power alone. I could feel myself diminishing."

"But, you always said you'd been in jail before."

"That was just bravado. I've done a lot of things that should have landed me inside before now, but no, the only time I was kept against my will was in Sophie's hospital. Even then it wasn't really against my will, at the time I had no will, I was lost and she brought me back. I was free to leave as soon as I was no longer a danger to myself."

Silence hung between them for several beats. Jane propped himself up on one elbow and turned to face Lisbon. "I'm not here to ruin your day. I just want to be outdoors and feel the sun on my face and the sand in my toes. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she replied. Lisbon knew part of his request remained unspoken. She knew he was also here to spend time with her, to not be alone and for that reason she allowed him to stay.

Jane gave her a look that could be described as nothing else but beseeching. His gaze was becoming less and less guarded these days when he looked at her and it was unsettling to say the least.

Lisbon had first noticed the change when she began visiting him behind bars. There was bullet proof glass between them, and an old school phone receiver full of static mired their conversation, but it didn't matter, because his face was so open. Jane's mouth would tell her mundane details about his life behind bars-the food was bad, the soap was harsh, he was bored a lot-but his eyes were full of revelations that needed no articulation.

His revelations were not world changing, mind you, just small incremental changes to his fundamental self. The kind of change that lasts because it does not come on in one quick, fell swoop, but instead begins gradually and builds foundations so solid that no disgruntled member of the old guard can hold back the oncoming, quiet revolution. She had not sensed any internal, personal civil war going on inside Jane's mind. He seemed to accept the new way of things tacitly and without drama.

At first she'd worried for him, and wondered if he'd lost his direction in life with Red John dead, and the reality of life behind bars creeping up on him. Lisbon didn't need to express her fears to Jane, change in demeanor or not, he was still Jane and even with Plexiglas separating them he could divine her concern for his well-being.

"I know you're worried about me," He'd mumbled into the phone during one of her earliest visits, "But I want you to know Lisbon, that I am nothing, if not adaptable."

Then he'd given her the exact same look he was giving her now, only this time between the heat of the day, the silly bikini, his obvious admiration for said silly bikini and the general air of possibility that had been trailing about him since he'd won his freedom, it felt different. She gotten used to the fact he'd accepted his new lot in life, what she wasn't ready for was the freshly hatched desire in his gaze.

"You should wash off that tanning lotion," Jane said, and his words startled her back to the present.

Lisbon jumped at the chance to put some distance between them. "Right, yeah, I'll just um go down to the water, but damn it!"

"What?"

"I've just got this one towel, and if I get in the water I'll need to dry off and then I'll have to sit on a wet towel and that, well, that sucks."

"I bought another towel," Jane said, indicating to the second shopping bag. "It's a big, proper beach towel. You wouldn't believe the things they sell at pharmacies now Lisbon. I saw people doing their grocery shopping in there! What happened to the days of running in to pick up Tempra and tampons only?"

Lisbon stared at the water, and slid her sunglasses back on. "Wal-Mart happened. Now everyone has to hustle to compete. Wait a second, Tempra and tampons?"

Jane shrugged and pulled the newly purchased towel from the bag. "I had a wife and child once. I did a lot of after midnight runs for Tempra and tampons."

"Right," Lisbon replied. It was all she could think of to say. Jane was more willing to speak of his family nowadays, and she had yet to reconcile herself to this particular change. He never overshared. There was no heart-wrenching outpouring of memories and grief while she held him on the living room floor of his little house of horrors in Malibu, just small dropped crumbs about harmless incidents that were easily digestible. "Well, I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Take your time," Jane said as he stretched out on drugstore towel.

"Kay."

Jane lay back and closed his eyes against the sun's bright glare, and Lisbon's retreating form. He didn't need to witness what that bikini looked like while walking away from him. He _wanted_ to know what it looked like, but it was safer not to indulge. Adaption is only easy when you take it slowly. That's why evolution took hundreds of millions of years. Better the animals don't notice they're losing their tails and gills in exchange for a brave new world. Plus, she'd soon return dripping wet, her hair plastered sexily to her neck and chest while that damned bikini sparkled even brighter.

In order to redirect his wayward mind Jane began running baseball stats in his head. He'd never been much of an organized sports fan, but baseball had always appealed to him. He liked the stats, he liked that you could have a beer belly and still play at the national level, and there was something intrinsically Americana about the sport that the wanderer in him loved. He'd rolled through every state in the Union, save for Hawaii and Alaska, before the age of twelve, and while traditional patriotism meant little to him, Jane held a great love for all four corners of the country and its national past time.

He was trying to imagine what it would have been like to witness Enos Slaughter's "Mad Dash" during the 1946 World Series between the Boston Red Sox and the St. Louis Cardinals when something wet and cold landed on his chest.

Lisbon was back, and she was glorious. Barring the invention of time travel Jane would never get to witness the "Mad Dash" for himself, but he had a hunch the sight of Lisbon standing over him, practically naked and dripping wet was just as phenomenal.

"Can you pass me my towel?" she asked, oblivious to his awe.

Jane nodded and silently filled her request. He remained quiet while she toweled off and wrung out her hair.

Once she was reasonably dry Lisbon plopped down next to Jane on the beach towel and reached for the bottle of SPF 45 he'd bought for her. Their eyes met and suddenly Jane's mute admiration became uncomfortably apparent to Lisbon. Could she-should she- rub sunscreen all over herself while he was looking at her that way?

Jane sensed her discomfort, and it was not surprising given that he was wallowing in his own. He needed to do something to normalize their interaction, to slow the pace of change, or at this rate they'd be crawling out of the ocean before they'd even grown some limbs.

He propped himself up on one elbow and aimed to look stern as opposed to awestruck. "You need to do something about Grace," he said in the same tone of voice that he used when he told her something, or someone, was irksome.

"Jane," she drew his name out as she said it and rolled her eyes.

Excellent, she'd followed him exactly where he'd wanted to go, and fallen back into their comfortable routine of harried supervisor and belligerent consultant.

"Whatever Grace is doing I'm sure it's not as irksome as you think," Lisbon said and rubbed sunscreen forcefully onto her legs. "And I've already told you I think you should hear her out-

"Hear her out? Lisbon she wants me to accept Jesus!"

"No she doesn't!" Lisbon cried and plastered cream on her forearms. "Does she?"

"Well, she invited…me…to…her…church…group…" Jane's words trailed off as Lisbon dabbed lotion between her breasts.

"Jane she just wants to help you heal," Lisbon didn't notice his lack of focus as she was too far gone, playing Special Agent in Charge Who Manages with Equal Parts Steel and Sympathy. "Grace feels that you two share a unique bond because you've both lost loved ones to Red John, and she's not wrong you know. It wouldn't hurt you to have a heart to heart with her. You don't have to go to the church group, but that also wouldn't kill you. I went with her once-

"You did?" Jane asked. This tidbit was interesting enough to trump her glistening cleavage.

Lisbon snapped the bottle of sunscreen shut. "Not for any religious reasons. I just wanted to be sure Grace wasn't falling into something too radical. I wanted to be sure the place was legit…and she asked me to go at a time when it was hard to deny her anything, so I went."

"Mother Teresa, what won't you do for your followers?" Jane asked jokingly. Lisbon opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. "Still, you had your doubts about the organization, as do I. Grace comes from a very evangelical background Lisbon, I don't blame you for worrying. That crowd is very good at sniffing out the weakest amongst the herd and assimilating them at a time when standing on one's own two feet seems impossible. Our little Grace would have been a sitting duck, an already partially assimilated, yet lapsed, sitting duck no less."

"Well I checked them out and they seem fine. It's just a bunch of charitable Christians doing what charitable Christians do." Lisbon said while debating whether or not she should ask Jane to put sunscreen on her back.

She couldn't reach back there on her own, but she also didn't think asking him to lend a hand was a good idea either. Maybe she could just lie on her back for the duration of the day.

"What? Like starting crusades and inquisitions full of blood and repression?" he asked with a sneer.

The Catholic in her decided to make him pay for that comment. If her people knew about anything it was how to dole out punishment in the name of the Lord.

"Jane, would you mind putting some cream on my back? I can't reach, and my back and shoulders are always the first to burn."

The snide look on his face quickly shifted into a combination of fear and longing. He reached for the bottle of sunscreen with hesitation before drawing his hand back.

"Know what Lisbon, I'm afraid sunscreen isn't gonna cut it. We need to cover you up with something more substantial," Jane said and began to unbutton his dress shirt.

Now it was Lisbon who was full of equal parts fear and anticipation. "Wh-What are you doing?" she stammered.

"Being a gentleman," he replied and shrugged the shirt of his shoulders to reveal a very respectably built upper body. "Here," he said and passed her the garment. "Put this on, it'll do more to keep the sun off than any sunscreen."

"Don't you need it?" she asked while staring at the proffered shirt like it might explode.

"Nah, you know how I am with the sun. I don't burn."

It was true. She couldn't count the number of times they'd spent hours outside at a crime scene while she quickly turned pink and he slowly browned. Despite the three piece suits it was obvious to anyone who spent enough time with him that Patrick Jane's inner soul resided on a beach.

Lisbon took a deep breath and plucked the dress shirt from Jane's outstretched hand. She stuck her arms through the sleeves and resisted the urge to gather the lapels up and take a big sniff. Jane watched her long enough to ensure she was adequately covered and then he flopped onto his stomach to enjoy the sun.

"Lisbon," he mumbled while turning just his head to face her. "I think it's time for the hat."

"What? No! I'm wearing the sunscreen and your shirt that's enough."

"Remember the Winethrope case? More specifically remember when your scalp peeled?"

"It happened once! Once in eight years!"

"Trust me when I say once was gross enough for another eight years."

Lisbon crossed her arms and considered his argument. The hat was ugly, but a peeling scalp was disgusting. The hat really was the lesser of two evils.

Jane, of course, already knew where her thoughts were going. "As long as you've got that suit on Lisbon no one's going to notice your hat."

She stared at him; surprised he would offer such a loaded compliment. It wasn't odd for Jane to compliment her, he did it all the time, but never in way that implied he was affected by her appearance. Instead, he would phrase his admiration in a neutral way like, "You've got a great skull", "You look like an angry princess", or "That guy over there won't stop looking at your ass, ask him what he knows about the victim, but take what he says with a grain of salt because he'll go overboard trying to impress you".

Maybe it was the heat, the suit or the strange new light in his eyes that pushed her, but she decided to ascertain just how personal his most recent compliment was.

"So, you like my bathing suit?" she asked airily while rolling up the cuffs of his shirt.

Jane didn't raise his head from where it was cradled on his forearms. "I said it was noticeable Lisbon, I didn't say anything about my preference for it one way or the other."

She wouldn't be deterred. "It's green."

He offered nothing in the way of reply so she continued. "You're always saying I should wear more green, so I just thought what the heck I'll buy it. So, what do you think? Good purchase?"

Jane finally rolled onto his side and assessed her. "I guess that depends," he said and sat up to face her, "on what your motivations for buying the suit were."

Lisbon arranged the hat on her head and slid her sunglasses back on so she wouldn't have to look Jane in the eye.

"I bought it to do something different, to…well just to do something out of the ordinary."

"What brought all that on?"

Lisbon huffed and rolled her eyes behind the shades. "Come one Jane, you know what! We got Red John! You killed him. Everything is different now, everyone is different, Cho, Grace, Rigsby, you…everyone but me. I wanted to buy something that was just for me that I wouldn't usually buy, and to use it as a motivator to actually take my vacation this year."

She trailed off and hoped she hadn't just ruined what otherwise could have been a lovely, carefree day, by dumping a huge pile of serious on the towel between them.

Jane gave no indication she might have rained on their parade, instead he just stared at her for several beats with the same "I'm vulnerable now" look he'd been giving her since he'd been hauled off to jail after his bail hearing. She really couldn't handle vulnerable Jane; he brought up too many possibilities she'd regulated to the "Do not touch" corner of her mind.

"Seriously Jane, stop looking at me like that, it's-

"You think I've changed?"

They were both momentarily confused and silenced, as their words crashed into each other like waves hitting the beach.

Jane recovered first. "Wait, you think I've changed? How?"

She didn't want to have this conversation, just like she'd never meant for him to see her in the suit. "Jane never mind okay, it was just a dumb thing to say, it's my own shit, really. If we're going to have an awkward conversation let's talk about what to do about Grace's obsession with helping you."

Jane cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at her. "For shame Lisbon. Poor Grace always the conversational scapegoat. Besides, we've got all day to talk, so we'll get to Grace, but first answer my question. How have I changed?"

_TBC…..there's room for one more chapter, it's like dessert. You're never too full._


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to _The Mentalist_ and honestly, with how dodgy it has gotten I'm not sure I'd want to. Lyrics are from The Verve song "Lucky Man" from one of the greatest albums of the nineties _Urban Hymns_

A/N: Thanks for everyone who stuck with this, and me, even though I wasn't able to write during the school year. I'll endeavor to do better in September.

Conversion Chapter 4: Lucky Man

_Happiness  
>More or less<br>It's just a change in me  
>Something in my liberty<br>Oh, my, my  
>Happiness<br>Coming and going  
>I watch you look at me<br>Watch my fever growing  
>I know just where I am<em>

_But how many corners do I have to turn?_  
><em>How many times do I have to learn<em>  
><em>All the love I have is in my mind?<em>

_Well, I'm a lucky man_  
><em>With fire in my hands<em>

_-The Verve_

* * *

><p>Jane waited patiently for Lisbon's answer to his question. When it didn't come he thumped gently on the brim of her outlandish sun hat. "I asked you a question Lisbon. How am I different?"<p>

Lisbon couldn't look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the water while her thoughts drifted like the river. Finally she spoke. "You're not angry anymore."

He couldn't see her eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but he knew they would be swirling with emotions, and the same blue-green colours of the river, if he turned her face towards his. Lisbon worked hard to ensure the world was never quite sure if she was capable of histrionic reactions, but Jane knew better. In fact, he'd wager his collection of rare books that no one, not even her family, knew Lisbon quite as well as he did.

Under different circumstances Jane would be proud of this deep, shared understanding with another human being, especially since that other human being happened to be a woman he cared for. After all, he'd spent a great deal of his formative years learning that fellow feeling, empathy and love in all its incarnations was for marks. It should have been a triumph that Jane knew all it took to gauge Theresa Lisbon's innermost thoughts and feelings was a careful glance into her eyes under just the right lighting.

It should have been a triumph, but it wasn't. Patrick Jane generally knew a lot about most people, most of the time because of his extraordinary mind and his sideshow upbringing. He knew all there was to know about Theresa Lisbon, all of the time, because his presence in her life was totally consuming. Jane was the sun she'd been revolving around for nearly a decade, and so far no one had managed to eclipse him.

Worse still, if he was pushed to admit the truth Jane would have to acknowledge that he'd used her idolatry to his own advantage often, and had even encouraged her to burn at both ends only for him. If he knew Lisbon best, it was only because he'd not allowed anyone else to know her better.

* * *

><p>This selfish revelation didn't come to Jane that day by the riverside. He was too preoccupied with Lisbon's state of mind, and the way water from her hair dripped down the front of his shirt-causing it to cling to her body to really deal with epiphanies. No, this particular realization came to Jane one night, just after his trial had begun, while he'd been wiling away some jail time in his mind attic.<p>

When Jane seriously considered the prospect of a lifetime spent imprisoned he had to admit that you really don't know what you've got till it's gone. Red John had taught him that lesson once, harshly and tragically, by cutting Jane's family up into bloody ribbons. After that Jane had figured he had nothing left to lose, then he'd met Theresa Lisbon and her team. He'd spent the better part of a decade trying to convince himself that they were just tools: colleagues at best, marks at worst. But, there in the darkness, in the hopeless place that is jail, Jane could recognize Lisbon and company for what they really were; his loved ones. It seemed that Red John was still teaching him lessons from beyond the grave.

In his mind's eye Jane saw a blood smeared smiley face unfurl across his cell wall. It smirked at him as if saying, _"Are you happy now?"_. In death Red John was free, while Jane was banged up in a cell, maybe permanently. It was so typical, Jane thought as he shrugged off the grinning phantom, that Red John should get the final word, even inadvertently.

Killing the man who'd taken his family away was always supposed to be enough for Jane. He'd told himself he was prepared to do it under any circumstances and accept the punishment. Everyone around him seemed to think that push come to shove Jane wouldn't be capable, or he'd at least be sneaky about it. That was probably why Timothy Carter had shown up that day in the shopping mall. Sure, Carter had come armed, but he'd also been pretty smug. What was Jane going to do in a busy shopping center? Shoot him?

In hindsight Jane could see Carter's point, and that was what truly gutted him. That night, in his bunk, Jane had to face the fact that if Red John himself thought you'd be crazy to murder someone in broad daylight, it probably wasn't the best plan of action. Now Jane was on trial for his life. He had no love of lawyers, but Jane could respect a passionate bid for revenge, and Oscar Adiles was definitely out for revenge.

It actually wouldn't have surprised Jane if he'd wound up spending the rest of his life in jail, or on death row. Adiles could make it happen, and if he did Jane's first concern was not for his own life, but Lisbon's. Jane had invested his life in the hunt for Red John, and Lisbon had invested hers in managing Jane. Red John was now dead, and the state of California might soon be legally responsible for managing Jane's life from here on out. If it came to that, if freedom was not to be his, Jane worried that Lisbon would struggle to go on.

He knew she was strong, certainly stronger than him. But, Jane knew Lisbon better than anyone else, and he knew her one weakness. He, Patrick Jane, was Theresa Lisbon's personal kryptonite. Deep down Jane knew that whatever it was that existed between them was the closest approximation to true love Lisbon would ever allow herself. It wasn't a physical relationship, or even a vocal one, but it suited two people too damaged to love normally just fine. There was an understanding between them, a tacit recognition that in another time and place it could have been beautiful, but not in this time and place. It worked, and it would've continued to work, to both their benefit and detriment till death do them part, but then Jane had gone and gotten arrested, and potentially jailed for life.

What would become of Lisbon without Jane? There were only two possible outcomes, either she'd thrive in his absence or decline. The problem was, both possibilities scared Jane. He didn't want her to bury herself in work, in some deranged bid to further retract from the hurly burley of human relationships. But, the thought that she might someday show up to visit and tell him all about her knew lover, promotion or social life was equally terrifying.

Jane could easily imagine how that scenario would play out. Lisbon's visits would get fewer and farther between, until they stopped completely. After all, what would they have to talk about anymore? Her life would go forward and his would stagnate. On the outside, surrounded by the rest of humanity Lisbon had a choice: to adapt and flourish, or to wallow and diminish. Jane however, would be afforded no such choice. Jail was captivity. He would remain forever the same, as if sealed in amber or rock like a fossil.

No, it wouldn't do it just wouldn't do at all. Jane made a promise to the universe that night. He didn't believe in God, but he put great stock in the inevitability of evolution and the workings of the universe. Things tended to sift out, slow as erosion, the way they ought to on the grand scale. If that worked to his favor, and he walked free, or even got some sort of conditional sentence, Jane decided it was time he and Lisbon reconsidered their relationship. He just had to work on getting back on the outside, because outside was a world without Red John. He and Lisbon had been waiting for another time and place, and now it was here.

It was right around the time of this grand revelation that Jane started making the vulnerable eyes at Lisbon. He was aware how much these looks frightened and discombobulated his boss, but he couldn't seem to stop. Worst still, Jane knew his vulnerable face probably looked a lot like Grace's earnest, yet terrifying, "Let's go to church" face. He could only imagine the ridiculous picture the three of them made at work. Jane trailing after Lisbon like a, sort- of- if- he- dared- to- let- himself- be, love sick suitor with Grace bringing up the rear like some modern day Mary Magdalene who just wants her personal Jesus to be happy, and also maybe concede there is a possibility of an afterlife. Cho and Rigsby no doubt thought of them as a mother duck and her two really special ducklings. Well, maybe just Cho, Rigsby could be too often found trailing Grace as the third duckling to really poke fun at anyone.

* * *

><p>Jane figured he must have made the vulnerable eyes again, just moments before at the river, and that's why Lisbon is currently trying to avoid his gaze while yearning for the good ol' angry days.<p>

Levity seemed like the way to go. "Come on Lisbon! I'm so angry. I never stopped being angry. You should have seen me tear into Tracey over the lack of AC today."

Lisbon's only response was to raise an eyebrow at him from behind her sunglasses. Less of a reaction than he'd hoped for, but at least she was looking at him now.

"I made a soccer mom cry just last week! You were there, and it wasn't even work related. Remember?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Lisbon snorted.

Jane narrowed his eyes. "What? She was a terrible person. All I did was tell her the truth."

"You weren't party to her conversation Jane! It was none of your business."

"She was putting her 'best-friend' down in a public place, something she does regularly because she's jealous that the friend has a successful career instead of settling down at 21 and pumping out three ungrateful kids," Jane said.

"Be that as it may Jane, Marie's is not the place for you to become the vindictive Dr. Phil!" Lisbon cried.

"Ha!" Jane yelled. "You admit I was being vindictive and probably petty!"

"Definitely petty! You made fun of her hair cut!"

"I hate soccer mom hair!"

Lisbon looked like she had a retort on the tip of her tongue but Jane barreled on regardless.

"I hate soccer mom hair, I hate joiners, I hate Adam Sandler movies, I hate when the temps put the milk back in the break fridge with only an inch left in the bottom, I hate minimalism, I hate casual Fridays, and don't get me started on skinny jeans. They shouldn't exist Lisbon, but if we're all going to pretend denim is acceptable in all social and work situations nowadays, can we at least agree that skinny jeans should be struck from the record?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "I'm aware you hate all those things Jane. You've expounded on your hatred for all of it many times on stakeouts that seem to never end. What's your point?"

"My point Lisbon? My point is that I'm no different. I still hate everything except the music and books I like, my work, a proper cup of tea, a well made suit and a handful of people," Jane replied.

"I'm no less of a curmudgeon than I was before. Cynical is what I am Lisbon. Cynical and unimpressed. I believe in less things than John Lennon did. Plus, I couldn't have lied to Yoko just for the sake of love. Her music was awful, end of story."

Lisbon picked at the hem of his shirt and took a deep breath. "Cynical isn't the same as angry Jane. Yes, you were always a cynic, but you can be a cynic and not have a wanton disregard for your own safety and the feelings of others. You offered yourself up to Red John time and time again, without any consideration for how that made me-or the team-feel. You compromised our safety, and your own, continuously. That's not cynical Jane, it's suicidal."

"I seem to remember getting myself mixed up in a kidnapping that ended with you giving me a severe tongue lashing for being an angry bastard who had no regard for his own-or your team's-safety." Jane offered dryly. "You claim there's a new me, like Coke light or something, if that were true I'd assume you would be pleased. All the Jane, half the anger!"

Lisbon smirked and took off her hat and sunglasses. "Technically that day ended with you telling me you'd always be angry and I'd just have to deal with it. Then you killed a man to save my life, and that…that's when I just started dealing with it Jane."

He could see her eyes now, and it only served to hammer her message home. Jane wanted to say, "I don't understand". But, it would've been a lie. He understood-he understood perfectly- because he'd known too in the moment he'd killed Dumar that it was an act of love.

Lisbon would have to live with the fact that he'd always be angry, always need revenge, and he'd never be able to love her properly, but he'd never let her die for his cause. Lisbon's safety, her very life was the one thing more precious than his quest for Red John's blood. If Jane was Lisbon's kryptonite then a threat to her safety was his Achille's heel.

"I told myself a million little lies the last ten years," Lisbon said while reaching for her shorts and hauling them on. "I came up with every justification I could to explain to myself why I let you be, well you, no matter how much trouble it causes me and the CBI."

Lisbon paused and began to unbutton his borrowed shirt. "I told myself and everyone around me that I let you get away-literally-with murder, because you're brilliant, because you're broken, because you're angry, and because I'm-we're-the team-we're all you've got. But, I know-you know- that's not why I did it, not really."

Her nimble fingers worked the last of the buttons free and Lisbon slid the shirt from her shoulders, before handing it back to Jane. "Here, put this on, I've got my own t-shirt."

"S'okay, you need it more than me," Jane said, mesmerized by both her candid words and the lovely view revealed to him when she'd shrugged off his shirt.

"No, no if we're going to have this conversation I'd rather you were wearing a shirt, that we were both wearing shirts." Lisbon said, rummaging through her beach bag for her t-shirt.

"I kind of like your outfit as it is," Jane mumbled while drinking in the sight of Lisbon.

Lisbon responded by pulling a grey t-shirt with CBI emblazoned on the front over her head. Jane sighed as it settled into place over her bikini.

"Jane don't," Lisbon said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't moon, don't dote, it's-it's unnerving."

There were a million things he could have said in response, and 999,999 of them would have represented a deflection and a return to the status quo, but this was not the time. Right now, in this moment, Jane felt like he had a loaded shotgun in his hands once more, and it was time for another leap forward.

_Happiness  
>Coming and going<br>I watch you look at me  
>Watch my fever grow and<br>I know - just where I am_

_But how many corners do I have to turn?_  
><em>How many times do I have to learn<em>  
><em>All the love I have is in my mind?<em>

"Why?" he asked. "Why Lisbon? Why is it unnerving?"

She looked as surprised as he'd expected her to be, so Jane decided to go for broke. He placed a hand on each side of her face and ran his thumb along her lower lip.

"Jane," Lisbon's tone was full of warning, and she placed her hands over his to try and escape his grip. "This isn't us."

He placed his forehead against hers. "Why not Lisbon? What's to stop us now?"

"People are staring at us Jane."

He pulled back and looked over his shoulder, "Meh, those moms over there? So what, they think we're already lovers, and they've been sending you death glares all afternoon, because you're single and thin, and I'm still wearing a wedding ring."

"Well, we're not, we're not what they think we are. So, they can…fuck right off," Lisbon murmured against his ear.

Jane turned back to her, their faces on inches apart. "They can indeed. But they're not entirely wrong are they? We are _something_, aren't we Lisbon?"

"It's not like that…"

"It could be."

"No Jane," she said and tried her best to look away, but his hands held her fast.

"Why not?"

"Because…just… Jesus Jane put on your shirt would you?" Lisbon pleaded and sank her face against his neck.

"I will if you tell me why," Jane replied.

"Put on your shirt and I will," she mumbled against his neck.

"Fine."

Jane drew back and picked up his discarded button up. He watched Lisbon as he pulled it on. It was obvious she was trying to reign in her emotions, but Jane could see the mist of tears in her eyes. It was a sadness Jane was determined to repel because he knew he was to blame for it.

"We're nearly there Lisbon, it wouldn't be that different-

"No Jane!" she cried, and then softened her voice in deference to their surroundings.

"That's just it, it would have to be different. Different than it's been. You're not angry anymore, and-

"You said that already."

"Jane! Don't interrupt me-

"Then say what you really mean!"

"I relied on your anger!" she blurted. Lisbon ran a hand through her hair and blinked rapidly trying to hold back the tears that pricked at her eyes. "Your anger was safe Jane. It didn't matter what I wanted or didn't want, because there was a line that couldn't be crossed with you. You'd always be angry and that was it."

"Now, you're different, and you're not…angry. But, the worst part is I can't…none of the team can…we don't know if we can believe you've really changed Jane." Lisbon swiped at her eyes furiously. "I've spent a decade chasing you around Jane. I know there's something here between us Jane, but I just don't know if I want that anymore."

"Are you sure?" Jane asked.

"No," Lisbon admitted. "All I know for sure is that I dedicated my life to you Jane, to your quest, and now that's over, and I feel like it's all come to nothing. Well, not nothing, you're different, and I want to believe that this less angry you is for real-

"I am."

"But, that still doesn't change this feeling I have that, that I don't know, I'm missing out on something everyone else on the team has…some finality."

Jane let out a breath of relief and a smile crinkled his features. "Lisbon, that's exactly what I'm talking about. This thing between us, let's change it, explore it…let me give you some finality."

She ducked her head and Jane watched a tear hit the sand between them. "Jane you don't understand. I'm not…I don't know if you and me is what I want. Don't you get it?"

Jane's stomach sank at her words, and suddenly he was back in his jail cell on one lonely night. "I think so. I was-I am-very selfish Lisbon, and I know I've kept you from having a real life since the moment we met. I've never been able to give you what you want, but I also don't want you find it somewhere else."

"But now, I'm telling you I want to show you I've changed and I'm offering you what you want."

Lisbon smiled sadly at him, "That's just it Jane…the worst part of getting exactly what you think you want is waking up one morning and realizing it's not what you want at all."

"Do you think that's going to happen?"

"I don't know," Lisbon replied. "But, I need time. Time to figure out what it is I want from my future, and I need to be able to make those decisions without undue influence from you."

"Okay," Jane said. "I can do that Lisbon. I promise. I've got all the time in the world now. I-

Jane's stopped talking when he realized Lisbon was crying, and doing her best to keep it silent. "Lisbon, are you okay?"

She wanted to vocalize her anguish. He was free-and she was so grateful for that-but she wasn't there yet. Where Jane saw open spaces full of possibility, and time stretching out to infinity, Lisbon pictured ticking clocks and doors that just wouldn't open without a fight. It made her want to scream that he was finally ready, and she was the one that wasn't quite on the same page yet. But she couldn't scream, she couldn't even speak, so she simply shook her head no.

"I know it's hard Lisbon. Change always is, but we'll take it slow okay? I had twelve months of solitary confinement to get used to this new me. Feel free to take as long as you like."

_It's just a change in me  
>Something in my liberty<br>It's just a change in me  
>Something in my liberty<br>It's just a change in me  
>Something in my liberty<br>Oh, my, my  
>Oh, my, my<br>It's just a change in me  
>Something in my liberty<em>

Lisbon nodded her assent. Dealing with the very real possibility of loving Jane in a literal sense wouldn't be easy, but he'd made her an offer she could live with. He'd give her time, time to come to terms with their new world, so that she wouldn't feel so much like the first fish that crawled out of the ocean in search of lungs. Plus, something in his eyes told her that whatever decision she reached, he'd be there, flapping about on the beach, gasping for air right along with her.

This realization didn't make it any easier to control her emotions and right now Lisbon wanted out of the public eye. "Jane, I have to go."

"What? Lisbon no, come on, I'm okay with giving you time, but in return you can't just run away and pretend today never happened."

"No, no Jane, I just…I want to leave here. I can't be out here like this anymore."

"Oh, right. Of course." Jane had known Theresa Lisbon long enough to know that public displays of emotion were not her idea of a good time. Hell, at home displays of emotions were not her thing either. He couldn't count the number of times she'd kicked him out of her home over the years when tears were a possibility. "Come on, let's clean this stuff up."

"Thank you," Lisbon said as she quickly began to gather her beach accroutrements.

Jane and Lisbon beat a hasty retreat from the riverside, and the disapproving glares of the married with children set to their left.

When they reached Lisbon's Mustang Jane helped her load the beach gear into the trunk of her car. "So," he said while pulling on his waistcoat, "Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

This was a potential landmine question to ask a woman like Lisbon, but Jane was legitimately concerned. Lisbon didn't deal well with emotions, and while she was no hysterical miss, he wasn't sure she needed to be behind the wheel of a muscle car at the moment.

Lisbon began walking towards the driver's side of the car. "Yes Jane, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I could drive you home."

Lisbon leaned against the car. "No Jane. Remember that thing I said about time? It involves some space as well."

He sighed and gave her a look that said he wasn't completely pleased with the situation as it was playing out.

"Jane, I'm fine."

"No you're not," Jane said as he stepped towards her. Lisbon backed up against the car a little, but Jane simply opened the car door for her. "But you will be."

Jane wrapped his free hand around her waist and planted a soft but lingering kiss on Lisbon's cheek. "Losing your tail is scary Lisbon, but you learn to live without it."

Jane ushered Lisbon into the Mustang. He waited till she was fully seated before he shut the door.

Lisbon turned over the engine, and Jane tapped on the window. She lowered it, and he stuck his face through the window. "I'm more than willing to give you time Lisbon, but don't shut me out. I'll come looking for you."

She smiled and leaned over to brush her lips against his cheek before she spoke. "Soon Jane, but not before I'm ready. That's how it is from now on."

He nodded to her and withdrew from the window. He gave her door one last tap before stepping aside so she could back out of her parking space. Lisbon honked once and then left to go her own way.

Jane watched until her car was out of sight, and then he shrugged into his suit jacket. The phone in his pocket banged against his ribs. Suddenly Jane had an idea. Lisbon would come around to his way of thinking sooner if she could really believe he'd changed, and actions always speak louder than words. Jane pulled out his phone and punched in a familiar, but often avoided, number.

* * *

><p>Grace almost fell out of her chair when her cell phone started chirping. The heat made her sleepy, and there was nothing to do at the CBI besides watch the last fifteen minutes of her shift slowly tick away.<p>

It took her a few moments to right herself and find her phone. Luckily, the person on the other end was persistent and not the type to concede easily. "Hello?"

"Grace! It's Jane!"

Grace rolled her eyes and slumped in her seat. "Oh, hi Jane."

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Awful. You left, and then Rigsby and Cho took their sweet time coming back from Marie's. My iced coffee was melted by the time they came back. All the good donuts were gone too." Grace sent death glares at the back of her colleagues' heads.

"Sounds like you could do with some fresh air. I'm down at The Pier, why don't you join me for some dinner? I'll even throw in an ice cream cone."

Grace pulled the phone away from her head and stared at it suspiciously. She shook her head and returned the cell to her ear. "_You_ want to have dinner with _me_?"

"Yeah, why not? We've had dinner before haven't we? We've had lunch and breakfast as well."

"Sure, during cases, but not like as friends. In fact, you've spent the entire four months you've been back at work avoiding me like the plague."

There was a pause on Jane's end of the line. "Grace I'm sorry about that. I just don't do well with the God talk, but I would really like to have dinner with you tonight, honest. And, as long as you don't try to convince me to go to prayer group we can talk about whatever you like, God included. Alright?"

Grace tapped her pencil and screwed up her mouth in indecision. "And there'll definitely be ice cream?"

"I guarantee it."

Her smile was practically audible on Jane's end. "Then I'm in!"

"Excellent. Meet me at the café by the pier when you get off."

Grace glanced at the clock. What was ten minutes in the grand scheme of things?

"There's nothing going on here and Cho let my coffee melt. I'm leaving now and he can deal with it."

Jane laughed. "Good for you Grace. There's that bit of bitch I like to encourage in you."

* * *

><p>Two hours later Jane sat on the riverside with two ice cream cones in his hand. Grace had asked him to hold hers for a moment, and then she'd taken off shrieking across the sand to frighten some seagulls.<p>

Grace streaked past him, braids streaming behind her, and her smile wide. No one had been more aptly named in Jane's opinion. He reveled in her delight and savored his freedom.

"Grace!" His voice chased her down the sand. "Don't ever change!"

Change was good and necessary. Evolution is how we move forward, but some traits are so useful, like opposable thumbs, or a spirit that cannot be crushed, they should never be lost.

_Happiness  
>More or less<br>It's just a change in me  
>Something in my liberty<br>Happiness  
>Coming and going<br>I watch you look at me  
>Watch my fever grow and<br>I know  
>Oh, my, my<br>Oh, my, my  
>Oh, my, my<br>Oh, my, my_

_Gotta love that'll never die_  
><em>Gotta love that'll never die<em>  
><em>No, no<em>  
><em>I'm a lucky man<em>

The End.


End file.
